


A Little Green

by htbthomas



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Chocolate Box Treat, F/M, Green Kryptonite, Hurt/Comfort, Trapped In A Closet, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-18 23:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5947750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htbthomas/pseuds/htbthomas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cat placed a perfectly manicured finger on her chin as she considered. "I can see the benefit to the two of you attending the… Benefit." Cat didn't even smirk at her wordplay. "Considering the two of you work together so well already, fine." She handed James the tickets. "I expect you to not only represent CatCo Media admirably, but to get a killer story."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Green

**Author's Note:**

  * For [subjunctive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/subjunctive/gifts).



> Diverges from canon after Episode 1.11, "Strange Visitor from Another Planet."
> 
> Thanks to my beta, LadySilver, who wasn't surprised at all that I picked this prompt to treat. :D

James blinked his eyes a couple of times. What had Cat just said? Something about an anonymous source and a possible scandal to investigate. Nothing about the art department, not until the reporter and photographer brought in their work.

Was he just tired? He'd been going to bed early lately, Kara using her sister and the DEO as her support team more and more. He'd sent her a text and hadn't gotten the apologetic reply until the middle of the night, when he was still sleeping. _Sorry, I missed you! Had a job, see you in the morning._

He sought her out in the crowd—she stood several feet away, bright-eyed, golden hair flowing from a simple barrette, taking notes. Once he was gazing at her, the tiredness melted away. She shined, a brilliant angel next to the mere mortals who surrounded her…

James shook his head. Man, he had it bad. He really missed her on the nights when he wasn't helping her on a mission. At least she _was_ busy with a mission, not on a date. Maybe he should ask her on a date. Her last date with Adam Foster had been two weeks ago, when Adam left town, just after Lucy broke up with James. Was that enough time? Would he look too eager?

Suddenly Kara turned toward him, expectant. He opened his mouth to respond, but to his chagrin, it wasn't just Kara but most of the room that had turned toward him. He'd missed something—he turned toward Cat, whose lips were pursed in annoyance. Crap.

"Pardon?" he asked, as mildly as he dared.

Cat rolled her eyes so hard, he was surprised they stayed in their sockets. "You are still serious about wanting to spend more time 'on the ground'?"

Hell, yes. He gave her a strong nod. "Absolutely, Ms. Grant."

"Good, then. You'll go to the Greenwood Charity Benefit with Paige McCallister. Stay here so we can talk strategy." She waved her arms in dismissal, ignoring Kara's insistent wave. "Back to the grind, people! I want hard facts to back up these allegations!"

"Ms. Grant!" Kara tried again, pushing through the retreating flow of people, who were leaving faster than usual. What sort of meeting had he ignored? "Ms. Grant, I—"

Cat went behind her desk and sat, sorting through her paperwork and shooing Kara with a hand. "Kara," she said, mispronouncing the name as always, "I have my tepid coffee; your services are needed for research. Ask Mr. Schott to help you if you find Google to be too much of a challenge."

Kara persisted. "But Ms. Grant…"

Cat finally looked up. She noticed at the same time as James. Her eyebrows drew down. "Where is Paige?"

"That's what I was trying to tell you, Ms. Grant." Her voice dropped to its mousey register at Cat's sharp look, getting quieter with each word. "Ms. McCallister called in sick today."

Cat's hand slapped the desk. "Well, that's awfully convenient. Probably out late partying and has a hangover. Call her in anyway."

"She says it's the flu." Neither Kara nor James would remind Cat how much she hated sick people infecting the office. "It might be a few days…"

"Fine," Cat sighed. "Go get…" She squinted thoughtfully, looking past Kara into the newsroom for a likely candidate. Then she stopped and looked up at James. "How bad was that breakup, James?"

His stomach dropped. She wanted him to go with Lucy? He could hardly meet her eyes across the table still. "Pretty bad, Ms. Grant."

"That's putting it lightly," Kara murmured. He glanced at her. Kara hadn't done much more than murmur condolences when she heard. How much did she know about what had happened? 

"Hmm, too bad. Still, you're both professionals, and I'm sure Lucy shares some of that mad dog spirit with her sister. Kara, tell Lucy I'd like to see her in my office." She went back to her paperwork.

No, not Lucy. They were barely able to work together as it was without pain haunting every word. And now they would have to attend a benefit together, pretend to be a couple? He was a professional, yes, but even that would be a stretch. In a month, maybe, a year… 

He had to stop this. "Wait—!"

Kara stopped, Cat looked up, frowning.

He hadn't known what he would say, but inspiration struck. "What about Kara?" 

"Kara?" Cat asked with dismay, while Kara asked simultaneously, "Me?"

She would be perfect. They were friends; his growing distraction when Kara was around wouldn't be a problem if they were on a mission together. She could use her gifts to ferret out information that her human partner couldn't, and if things got messy, she could get professional help. "Sure, she's a little green, but—"

"A little green is an understatement..."

Time to appeal to Cat's ego. "Didn't I read that you started out as Perry White's assistant?"

"Hmm." Cat placed a perfectly manicured finger on her chin as she considered. "I can see the benefit to the two of you attending the… Benefit." Cat didn't even smirk at her wordplay. "Considering the two of you work together so well already, fine." She handed James the tickets. "I expect you to not only represent CatCo Media admirably, but to get a killer story."

"Um, okay, I…" Kara was stammering. Why? Was it the added responsibility? She could handle it. An act for Cat? Maybe. But the nervousness felt very real.

James laid a steadying hand on Kara's shoulder. "We'll do you proud." 

Kara settled, giving him a small, grateful smile. "Yes." Then the nervousness came right back. "I should, um, find something to wear, excuse me…"

James turned to follow her, but Cat's quiet voice stopped him. "Don't think I'm not wise to your motives, Mr. Olsen. I more than suspect our cute little blonde assistant is the reason for your falling out with Ms. Lane." He opened his mouth to protest but she went on. "Don't let her get away like my son did, James."

* * *

The Greenwood Charity Benefit was one of the most glamorous events James had ever attended. His eye was drawn this way and that, lush live greenery mixing with tasteful lighting and gourmet food, not to mention all the glitterati who had decided to attend this event. Which was good because he was having a very hard time keeping his eyes off Kara.

He had picked her up at her apartment, Alex calling from inside that he should just come on in. He found Alex sitting on the couch watching TV, mouth half-full of Pad Thai. "She'll be out in a minute." Then she took another look at James and set down her food. "You clean up nice, Olsen."

He flashed her a winning smile. He'd chosen a designer tuxedo on purpose—after all, he needed to look like he fit in at a five-hundred-dollar-per-ticket charity event. "Thanks, Danvers," he teased. 

But his smile faded to slack-jawed awe when Kara walked in. Her blue off-the-shoulder dress didn't hug her curves the way her Supergirl uniform did, but instead highlighted them. Her blue eyes shined from beneath her simple frames, and tendrils curling down from her updo lengthened the line of her neck. She was all woman. "Wow," he said, all he could manage to say.

She twirled then, like a highschooler in her first prom dress. "Do you like it?"

Did he like it? He glanced down at where her hand curled around his arm as they walked through the mingled crowd. He liked it so much that he was fighting to not just stand there and stare. He swallowed. They were here on assignment. Together, they would determine if the rumors were true—that only ten percent of the money Greenwood raised was actually going to forest conservation, while the rest lined the board's pockets. 

But to do that, they had to play ignorant donors, enjoying a night on the town. To their right, a band started up, a swing arrangement of a recent pop song. He smiled, something for everyone. A few couples had started to dance; they could join in without comment. "Miss Danvers," he said, taking a step back and holding out his hand. "Would you care to dance?"

She gave him a demure grin. "Why, certainly, Mr. Olsen."

As they walked hand in hand to the dance floor, his clammy palms slipped in hers. Could she sense that? Could she hear the way his heartbeat had increased from the moment they had been assigned together, how it jumped every time he saw her or they touched in the smallest way? Of course she could. She was Supergirl. He prayed that she didn't guess the reason, that she chalked it up to adrenaline and excitement at being out in the field again.

He placed his hand on her waist, the material cool under his skin, and she settled her hand on his shoulder. Their entwined hands lifted, and then on the next downbeat they both flowed into motion, slipping into place among the spinning couples already on the floor.

Neither spoke for a few minutes, and it gave him time to enjoy the heady rush of being with Kara, alone, in a beautiful room with romantic lighting and nothing superheroic to worry about. Just two people who enjoyed each other's company. He led and she stayed with him, never missing a step. She was so light in his arms, like she was floating. Was she floating? Lois had once told him that when she and Clark danced, it felt like dancing in the clouds—sometimes it literally was. He could believe it.

The song ended and shifted into a new one, a slower tempo, one more suited to conversation. "I never knew you were such a good dancer," Kara said, lifting her chin to look up at him. 

"I've had plenty of practice," he said, and it was true. His career at the Daily Planet had trained him to slip into any situation. "I never knew you were, either." 

"I've had a lot of practice, too." She chuckled. "If you count dancing with Alex."

"Did she lead?" James teased. 

"Always." Kara's eyes sparkled with stories to tell. "In fact, she—" Kara stopped mid-sentence, her eyes going distant.

"What?" he murmured, not slowing their pace. Freezing on the dance floor might attract too much attention.

"The president and one of the board members are over by the bar; they're discussing money…" James waited while she listened, swaying them back and forth. "The president is pleased at the good turnout. The board member is saying that they have raised more money than usual since all of the catering was donated."

"Nothing suspicious there yet," James said. "Can you get anything from their tone?"

"No, but their heartbeats and heat signatures indicate… pleasure and pride. I think. I can't sense deception from here." Her eyes focused again. "But I could be wrong. I haven't been doing this long enough to know for sure." She looked downward, embarrassed.

He slid a comforting hand down her arm. "It's okay, Kara, Clark spent a lot of years perfecting his skills. Give it time." 

She nodded, once, then sighed. "You're right."

"Why don't we try getting closer?"

They walked toward the bar, James resting a hand lightly on the small of her back. Heartbeats and heat signatures, she'd said. Was she as attuned to his right now? He tried to even his breathing, even as warmth crept up his arm at their contact.

"A Greenwood signature cocktail for the lovely couple?" the bartender asked, gesturing to a line of martini glasses decorated with hand-painted leaves. The liquid inside glowed a brilliant green. 

James immediately held up a hand to decline. "Club soda, please." On assignment, he had to keep his wits about him. They were scrambled enough in Kara's presence.

He turned to Kara, who was taking a sip from one of the special martini glasses as she listened to the conversations around her. He took his drink and tipped the bartender then led Kara out of earshot. "Is it good?"

She refocused on James. "Oh! Yes, it's delicious." She took another sip. "I think it's Midori and some sort of flavored vodka." Then she noticed James' drink and frowned apologetically. "I'm sorry. Alcohol doesn't affect me, so I didn't even think…"

"It's fine. I could have probably handled one drink, but I'd rather not risk it." One corner of his mouth turned up. "Human constitution and all." He cast his gaze around the people nearby. "Learn anything?"

"Not really. Someone just asked if another person would meet them in the hallway, important details to discuss. It could be nothing, or it could be something, I can't tell yet who it is, but I think we should—"

She stumbled, a little Greenwood cocktail sloshing over the side of the glass onto her hand.

James caught her elbow, steadying her. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she said, setting down the glass on a hightop table. "It's just these heels, I'm not used to—" She stumbled again, grabbing onto his arm, hard. "Maybe not…"

James heart started pounding. What could lay Kara so low? Was there… his eyes lighted on the martini glass with its bright green concoction. Oh my god, why hadn't he suspected it immediately! "Does it feel like... " He lowered his voice. "...kryptonite?"

She froze and then nodded, face going pale. "The drink?"

"It must be." He draped her arm over his shoulders and started walking for the exit. "We're leaving. Now." Who could have done this? Who could have suspected that a Kryptonian would be at this party? Who would have access to it in the first place? Was it mixed in inadvertently somehow?

"Call Alex," Kara said quietly. Her voice was getting weaker every time she tried to speak.

"Shh. I will. As soon as we're far enough away."

But suddenly Kara stopped, pulling him back. "Lord…" she whispered. "He's here."

"Who? Where?" James asked, fear racing in his veins. Who could scare her so badly? He searched the crowd and saw it right away. Maxwell Lord, coming in the front entrance, showing his ticket to the ushers while he casually glanced around the room, looking for someone…

James pulled them behind another couple, a tall, muscular man and his striking date. Kara had repeatedly shared her suspicions about Maxwell Lord. She wouldn't want him to see her this way, even as Kara instead of Supergirl. "I'll find another way out." Maybe the catering entrance, or a fire exit…

Crouching low to cover her, he led her the other direction, toward the back of the room. She was heavy in his arms, as if gravity were pulling her downward, the opposite of the way she regularly broke its laws in flight. They passed by the buffet table and Kara stumbled again. "Do I need to carry you?"

"No," she whispered, closing her eyes, "just get me away from…" 

James glanced at the table - a large number of the desserts and hors d'oeuvres were green in some way. How had he missed that too? At that moment, a server came from the kitchen, carrying two trays laden with little mint petit fours.

Going through the kitchen was out.

He kept them moving. Away from the entrance, away from the bar and the kitchen, skirting the edge of the tables ringing the dancefloor. A few attendees gave the two of them a disapproving onceover. Drunk, so early? He avoided their gazes, Kara's face tucked into his shoulder. Hopefully Lord or his lackeys wouldn't easily get their description. But even as he avoided people, he searched for a door, an exit, something. How were they going to get out of here?

Then he saw it. A closet, the door tucked behind a stand of potted evergreens. He took a chance, ten yards to go, and lifted her into his arms. She moaned, ragdoll-limp, and his feet sped toward the door. Let there be room for two in there, or at least one…

He opened the door to find a stash of cleaning products, a garbage can, a vacuum cleaner. There wasn't much room, but if he slid everything flush against the wall there might be enough room to lie down on the floor. Throwing a quick look behind him to see if anyone was watching, he closed the door and locked it.

It was dark. Very dark. He didn't dare flick on the light—what if it showed under the door? But he'd memorized the layout enough in his brief analysis that he could push things aside with a foot. Using the light from his phone, he gently laid her down. "Kara?" he whispered, stroking her face with one hand, "are you awake?"

"Did you call Alex?" Her voice was barely audible.

"I'm calling now." The call needed to be quick. He'd already used his phone enough, someone right outside might have already seen it. The sound of his voice could carry as well. "Alex?" he murmured when Kara's sister picked up.

"What's wrong." Not a question—a request for information. He was surprised at how easily Alex could pick up on his distress. 

He stared at the crack under the door—a dim twinkle filtered through, coming from the Christmas lights wrapped around each live tree. "Kara's ingested kryptonite. You need to get to the Halldorf as soon as possible." The pounding of his heart roared louder in his ears than the sound of his voice. Kara moaned softly and turned on her side, drawing her knees up. Or at least as much as she could in her formal attire.

"Kryptonite? How? I—" 

The call dropped.

"Alex?" he whispered, and looked down at his screen. No service. 

Then even the dim glow from the twinkling lights in the banquet hall went out, and he and Kara were left in the dark. What happened?

A moment later, he knew. 

"Miss Danvers?" It was the unmistakable voice of Maxwell Lord. The doorknob jiggled as Lord tried it and found it locked. "Mr. Olsen? Are you in there?" 

If James had thought his heart was pounding loudly before, it sounded like a thunderstorm now. He swallowed.

"Did you enjoy your cocktail, Miss Danvers? My finest mixologist created it for Greenwood specially at my request. Such a brilliant green hue, and all the ingredients perfectly harmless. Unless you are one of the rare individuals with... " Lord paused as if looking for the perfect word. "...an allergy."

Oh, god. Maxwell Lord knew. He _knew_! James curled closer around Kara, knowing he couldn't do much if Lord asked the hotel staff to open the door. Somehow he didn't seem like the kicking-down-the-door type.

"I'm sure you're worried about her, Mr. Olsen. After all, I understand you've seen this… allergy... in action back in Metropolis. My medical facilities are quite advanced; she'd get much better care there than any hospital in National City, maybe even the whole East Coast."

The door handle rattled as Lord tried it again. But this time it sounded different. Keys...

Kara shifted beside James, and he put out a hand in the darkness to steady her. She grabbed it, holding it with burst of astonishing strength. Then just before collapsing bonelessly to the floor, Kara sent a burst of bright light from her eyes to the doorknob. It glowed white hot with heat and Lord let out a shout on the other side.

Good. He would have a key-shaped scar on his palm as a memory. Hopefully for his long nights in jail. This was attempted murder.

Murder… Just the thought of that possibility made James' muscles tense up with worry. He placed a hand on Kara's back, gently—her breath made only the slightest of movements.

James waited for Lord to speak again, to threaten them, to curse them, to promise retribution. But there was nothing for several long seconds. Nothing but the sound of James' pulse pounding in his ears. Not even the rattle of Kara's breath. Maybe Lord had gone for reinforcements.

He checked her again. There was some movement, and the barest whisper of air on his skin when he held a finger to her lips and nose. He had no idea how bad it was. She'd ingested the stuff. Had that ever happened to Clark? Maybe he should use the signal watch—no! Clark might rush here unaware of the danger, and he was just as susceptible to kryptonite. Who knew how much of the benefit was intentionally booby-trapped? The food and drinks, certainly. But what about the greenery? The lights? The very air? He couldn't risk exposing Clark—it could be a trap for him as well.

Lois! He could call Lois! She could— As he lifted his phone, he remembered. Still no service.

He shined the dim light of the phone screen onto Kara's face. Her eyes were shut as if in sleep and her face bore a sheen of sweat. He touched her cheek with the back of his hand—it was burning up, hotter than any human could stand. Was there a greenish cast to her skin as well? Or was he imagining it?

"How long do you think she can last?" There it was again. Lord's voice. No threats, no curses. But also no sign of the pain he must be feeling from the burn. The man's control was intimidating all on its own. "I'm genuinely curious. So little is known about Kryptonian physiology. So when I learned about the possible effects of just the smallest radioactive pieces of their home planet, I had to see it for myself." He paused, and James imagined a slow smile spreading across his face, his teeth baring in feral hunger. "And since I recently learned the identity of our girl in blue…"

James shuddered. He didn't know how Lord had found out, who else knew, or how he knew Kara would be here tonight. Were Kara's days at CatCo Media over? Were Kara's days over… period?

Come on Alex. Where are you?

"I'd rather not cut this door open, not now. Too many questions, too many eyes. The benefit will be over in a few hours, anyway. Do you this she'll make it, Mr. Olsen? I could shut things down early. They'd grant my request—as Greenwood's biggest donor. But do you really want to risk Kara's life?"

James' heart nearly stopped at the sound of her first name—the intimacy of it made this all the more real.

"You could save her, James. I've seen the way you look at each other. She's saved your life—wouldn't it be nice to be her hero in return?"

James closed his eyes. Of course he wanted that. But not like this. He'd never felt so helpless.

Kara's skin was cold now, clammy as if the kryptonite had burned all of Kara's sunshine to ash. He had to warm her up. Carefully, he positioned himself behind her, molding his body to hers, wrapping his arms around her. She didn't respond, not even a moan or shift of her muscles. If he couldn't still feel the weak rise and fall of her chest, he would have thought he'd already lost her.

"It's all the same to me, of course," Lord said. "I can perform my research on Kryptonian physiology as easily if the subject is living… or dead."

As helpless as James felt, his anger roared to life. He wanted to leap to his feet, kick down the door, and knock Lord on his smug, arrogant ass. James shook with adrenaline, fury blazing down his veins. But he didn't move—it was just what Lord wanted. He had to stay here and give Kara what comfort he could until Alex arrived, or until— 

Kara shifted, turning her head slightly toward him. Had his body heat helped? "James..." Her voice was barely more than the movement of her lips. "Where's Alex?"

"On her way," he told her softly, stroking her hair. She had to be. He couldn't stomach the thought of any other possibility. "I'll be right here with you until she comes."

Kara nodded once and shifted deeper into his arms. Without really thinking about it, he laid a soft kiss on her cheek, lingering to impart just a little more warmth to her too-cool skin. A low rumble sounded in her throat in response. Was it pain or pleasure? He lifted his head—

And Kara captured his lips with hers—strong and brief, a last burst of power before she drifted back into unconsciousness. James lay there stunned for a moment, touching his fingers to the place where she had kissed him. It had felt like… a farewell.

"Oh my god, Kara. Kara!" he rasped, no longer caring what Lord could hear. What did it matter now, if she was— 

The door burst in. James blinked up into the open doorway, burgeoning tears clouding his vision. There stood… Kara. Or Supergirl, really. A black device was strapped across her chest, with a glowing green eye—one of the protective devices sported by Alura and Non and their team. He didn't think Kara had access to any of them. But wait, it wasn't Kara, it couldn't be…

He looked down at Kara's still form and then back up at not-Supergirl. "Do not worry," not-Supergirl said. "I will take her somewhere safe, to heal." Behind not-Supergirl stood Alex, gripping Maxwell Lord by the arm. She nodded assurance to James.

"Thank you," James said, faint with relief. Not-Supergirl took Kara gently in her arms and then sped away.

Lord, looking much more intrigued than surprised, let Alex lead him away. But not before giving James a wink and a knowing smile.

* * *

Kara's eyes fluttered open, and she glanced around nervously before seeing James sitting by her bedside, holding her hand.

"Welcome back," he said, chest flooding with relief.

She smiled, the small, shy one that she reserved for him. "It was a close one, wasn't it."

Too close. "But you're safe now. They assured me that all traces of kryptonite are out of your system."

"They…?" She seemed to realize fully where she was—the heart of the DEO. "They let you in here?"

"Not without protest. Alex talked them into it." Yet another thing he was grateful to Alex for. "Said I might speed up the healing process."

She blushed—whether it was his words or the warmth in his eyes, he didn't know. But he was done pretending he wasn't completely and totally in love with her. He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back, her grip steady and firm.

"Thank you. If it weren't for you, Lord might have—" Her eyes went wide. "Lord! Is he—?"

"In custody here. On the down low." Before Kara could ask, he added, "I've been sworn to secrecy until they uncover the extent of his plans."

Her eyes narrowed and she pushed herself up on her elbows. "I need to have a _talk_ with him."

"Wait, wait," he said, attempting to pull her down. "Alex and Agent Henshaw are interrogating him already." Henshaw was a surprise—James was deeply curious about how a shapeshifter had come to run the DEO. "You need rest more than answers."

She started to protest but instead relented, settling back. "Okay. But only because you're here." Her thumb began to trace light circles on the back of his hand. "At the hotel…" Her eyes focused on where she touched his hand. "...did I…?"

"Did you kiss me?" He scooted closer in his chair. "Yes. I didn't mind. But…"

She looked back up into his eyes, frowning. "But what?"

"It was too short." He leaned down, hovering above her mouth, waiting for her to close the distance. He didn't have to wait long.

The kiss lasted longer, long enough that he wondered for a moment whether any of the DEO agents who might be watching were getting uncomfortable. Then another moment later, he decided he didn't care. She was here, she was safe and she wanted him.

She pulled away with a soft sigh. "Better?"

He pretended to think about it, and she laughed. It was an amazing sound.

"Oh!" she said after a couple more kisses, "what about the story?"

"Already handed it in. Ms. Grant was quite pleased with, 'Supergirl Crashes Benefit, Helps Expose Corruption.'" He lifted his phone to show her byline on the mock-up.

"By Kara Danvers and Jimmy Olsen." She hooked her fingers behind her head and leaned back into the pillows. "I like the sound of that."


End file.
